The Merchant's Daughter
by attica
Summary: Two years later, Char returns to Kyrria and Ella, knowing her deceit will be exposed, runs away. But fate has a funny way of dashing all of one's plans, even if they are for the good of your kingdom. Ella/Char.
1. A Prospect

**The Merchant's Daughter**

Disclaimer: Just a girl playing in Gail Carson Levine's fantastic sandbox. I own nothing, but I sure like to dream!

**A/N**: Recently I've been on the roll of writing fanfics about my favorite children's books, and Ella Enchanted is one of my all-time favorites. I started this fanfic a million years ago, but I recently reread the book and decided to post this up and continue it. Not to mention, I've been on an EE fanfic binge, and there are some GREAT EE fanfics out there, guys! The only thing is, they remain unfinished, and I sincerely hope this fic won't suffer the same fate. . .

ooo

"_By the way, you are a month older than the last time I saw you. Are you still too young to marry?" (Ella Enchanted, 176)_

ooo

It was raining. No, raining was an understatement – Kyrria was in a state of torrential downpour. Twenty minutes ago, I had discarded my boots and now I was sloshing through the mud with bare feet, trying to rescue vegetables from becoming muck soup. I sank into the soil and slipped and fell numerous times, and as I peered up at the windows of the manor, I could see Hattie and Olive through the fogged windows, attentive with sadistic pleasure.

"Oh, sweet, dry yourself off," Mandy said, as I stepped in through the kitchen door. I tracked mud all over the floor, which I knew would be my task to remove later. I set the soaked basket of vegetables on the table, which she quickly swept up for the soup. "Go, or you'll have a fever by tonight."

I was already trudging up the stairs, my feet leaving moisture prints on the wooden panels. Sometimes I refused the curse to see how long I could last; I did it a few times a day on the hope that someday in the future I would be able to withstand it. So I practiced. But some days, I woke up exhausted with little energy or real defiance. Some days I woke up in a colorless world, with little to no feeling, just throbbing feet and tender palms.

I dried myself off in the room I shared with Mandy, twisting the water from my hair in front of the mirror. But as I stood there, wiping the mud from my face, I wondered if Char would be able to recognize me in a crowd. I was older now. I was two years older from the last time he'd written. Two years older from the time he'd proposed. That meant he was two years older, too – in a week, he would be twenty.

There was going to be a large celebration in Kyrria on the day of his birthday – by means of a ball, of course. How else did Kyrrians know to celebrate? I only knew of this because Hattie and Mum Olga only left it out of conversation when they were snoring a symphony, in deep sleep, and because a month ago I had seen a copy of the invitation in the fairy book Mandy had given me. It had been emblazoned with gold leaf and blue flowers. I had traced over his name a few times, reading by the firelight. My heart began to pound, thinking about Char finally coming back to Kyrria. Would he still remember me? Would he look for me? Or had he long moved on?

I tried to keep up with his adventures when the fairy book would let me. I read his letters to his sister, his mother, his father, and occasionally would strike gold: a page in his diary. But illustrations of him were what I coveted the most. Those came so rarely that when they did, it would take me hours to flip the page, for fear that it would disappear and I would never see his countenance again. And disappear, they did – every time.

The last image I saw was of him taking a stroll in the Ayorthan garden by himself. He had been surrounded by lush lavender and lilies. He'd grown taller, his hair had grown longer, and his jaw looked squarer. In every picture I saw of him, he always looked so serious – always too serious, for a boy his age. It made my heart ache. I longed to see him smile and yearned to make him laugh again. I even rehearsed the first joke I would tell him in years. Each time, it would be different, depending on the situation we happened to meet in. A fallen fruit cart, a spirited dance, a casual encounter in the garden. But every time, I would never fail to make him laugh and fall in love with me again.

I dreamt up impossible scenarios while I scrubbed the floors until my knuckles bled, while I hung up washed petticoats and became Olive's miserable accountant. The thought of meeting Char again, of some day being able to hear his voice, of some day being able to face him without being fettered by an unseen curse. . . it was the only thing that kept me from floating away. It was easy to be hopeless and sad. It wasn't easy to keep living.

ooo

Mum Olga begrudgingly freed me from my servant duties when my father returned from his trips. Even so, I preferred keeping Mandy's company, so my days under servitude didn't differ so much from the days I could spend above it. I did, however, like to escape to the royal menagerie when the weather in Kyrria obliged me a little sun. I secretly visited Apple, the centaur Char had given me. Today I stopped by with a ripe red apple, his favorite. I stroked his mane as he bit into it and smiled at me with his blank eyes.

"I'm glad to visit you again," I whispered to him. It had been three long months since I had been able to see him. "I wonder, do you still remember me?"

I peered into his face for any trace of recognition, but he continued to stare with a look of fond nothingness.

I moved onto the birds. The days of rain had made them restless and now they were all squawking, flying around their large metal cage, wanting to be free. As I watched them, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness. Even birds, who were speculated to have brains as small as walnuts, could comprehend imprisonment.

I recited a phrase I had learned from one of the parrots here, long ago.

An orange bird with a red crown squawked back, repeating the phrase. I recognized this bird – it had been the bird that I had seen with Char, the last time I had visited here with him.

"My brother once told me about a lass that could speak Gnomic absurdly well for a human," a voice suddenly said.

I turned to see a girl, just a little shorter than me. She had long tawny hair that flowed down her back and green eyes. She smiled, and I felt the rush of familiarity. I had never seen her in person, but I knew her. She was Char's sister.

"Princess Cecilia," I said, giving her a curtsy. I nearly tumbled over, and she laughed.

"Please, call me Cecilia."

As I turned back to the bird, I could feel her eyes examining me. Did she recognize me? Did she know me? She'd said that Char had told her about my talent for speaking Gnomic – did that mean he had told her other things, as well? Suddenly, I felt frozen with panic. Cecilia rarely made public appearances on account of how she had gone abroad to a more privileged finishing school, but I hadn't even heard that she was visiting. If I had known, I surely would have never come.

"I saw you earlier, by the centaurs," she said casually. "You seemed to be especially attached to one in particular."

I stiffened. What could I say? I settled for a vapid and common justification. "Yes, that one. He's very pretty."

"Yes, he is," she agreed. She moved up to stand directly beside me. In profile, I realized that she was like a faint echo of her mother; very much like her, but still different. "How did you learn how to speak like that?"

"I have a knack of repeating what I hear," I answered cordially. "And I've learned that language has a way of getting you out of situations and helping you make friends, even when things seem the most hopeless."

As I said that, I thought about Areida, at finishing school.

Cecilia smiled at me, and I saw Char a little in her face. "That is a most advantageous way to look at learning another language."

Suddenly I wanted to ask her about Char, and if they were close. I knew that he wrote to her on occasion, never failing to play the part of a concerned and kind older brother. He was diplomatic in all of his writings with the exception of his journal, in which he allowed himself a little leeway for real honesty. I was reminded of the entry he had written after I had sent him the letter in which I had lied that I had married and run away. . . yes, indeed, his diary was the only place he allowed himself the luxury of penning his most private thoughts.

But I knew that if I mentioned anything about Char, it would give me away. I had reason to think she already suspected me, after spying me with the centaurs and eavesdropping on my Gnomic calls.

"I'm sorry, forgive my manners, but I've completely forgotten to ask for your name," she said.

"Katerina," I blurted. "I'm Katerina."

She smiled warmly, before giving me a curtsy that brought my own clumsy one to shame. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Katerina. I hope we will meet again soon." And with that, she turned and began heading back to the castle, where I could see the Queen waiting for her, on the terrace.

After our encounter, I rushed back home. That night, I flipped through the fairy book to see if it would allow me to discover whether Princess Cecilia suspected me. After reading a story about three frogs that found gold at the bottom of a pond, I finally came across a journal entry. It was from Char.

_Father's insisting that I find a bride to marry. He finds the argument of my disinterest in marriage insulting – not only to him, personally, but to our country. He says that an unwed king is a bad sign for a country, that it means he has no companion, and thus is not capable of sustaining a relationship. What is friendship, then, if not a sustained relationship? But Father says that's not the point._

_I do not want to grant her the satisfaction by saying that she is the reason I've resolved never to marry. At the moment, I am just not keen on the idea. As a result, father has set me up to meet a few ladies of the court that he thinks might suit me. The idea is less than exciting. I have reason to believe that all ladies of the court are all replicates of the same boring template._

_I wonder if she is happy. It's been two years and I must admit, despite myself, that I still hope to see a letter arrive, in her writing. Even if she considered me a naïve fool, I miss her still._

_Then again, I will be back in Kyrria in a week's time. Perhaps, if anything, with my knights gone and no conflicts to mediate, it will serve as a good distraction._

No picture accompanied the journal entry. Despite myself, I reveled in the fact that he still missed me, and that he still wished I would write. But I found myself jealous of the ladies of the court all tripping over their petticoats to meet him. His optimism was less than sunny, but what if he did manage to meet one lady of the court that captured his attention? That made him laugh?

"Lady, come quick," Mandy suddenly said, barging in. "Your father needs you."

I closed the book, hiding it under the bed, before heading to my father's study. He was sitting in a chair, waiting for me.

"Come, Eleanor, let me look at you," he said.

"It's Ella." I stood there, staring at him. "And I hope you know better than to ask me to spin, Father."

"No, no, no spinning is necessary," he said. "We've been talking about you, and I've decided that you're at the right age to become a prospect. You've grown up to be a very pretty girl, Eleanor. Not so gangly and rough like you were younger."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "A prospect?"

"Yes. We've got to clean you up. I've already mentioned your season to some of my clients and I'm expecting quite a bid."

I shuddered as I thought of the men I had seen my father do business with: middle-aged men with thinning hair and stained teeth. But they had vast properties and prevailing businesses. Could my lie to Char turn out to be a prediction of the future, after all?

At that thought, I didn't know whether to die from laughter or throw up.

My father had already tried this on me once before, three years ago, in an attempt to settle some of his debt. He had put special mushrooms in the soup to make me flirty and compliant. This time, I knew better.

I left my father's study with a hollow feeling in my chest. If my father had his way, I would be married off in two weeks' time. Could I allow that? And even more so, would I risk endangering Char with my curse by attempting to see him when he returned home?

Before I fell asleep, I found a journal entry from Cecilia from today.

_Today I was at the menagerie and I met a girl who spoke fluent Gnomic to a bird and seemed to have a special bond with the centaur my brother had caught for a lass long ago. She seemed familiar to me and I immediately thought that it was she that Char had mentioned to me before – but hadn't he written that she had eloped and run away?_

_I used to always wonder why my brother chose to stay away from home even after his year at the Ayorthan court ended. Mother was not too pleased when he wrote to say that he wanted to join his knights at the border and ease the conflict between the ogres and the people. She said it was hardly a young prince's job – dangerous, too! – but he insisted that he owed it to Kyrria and to himself to learn alongside his knights. I wouldn't do my brother the discredit by saying that it was all just a front. . . but I did always get the feeling that there was something else keeping him away from home, as if he was running away._

_The girl said her name was Katerina, and on my way home I remembered that the girl my brother had been so enamored with was named Ella. Perhaps they were two different girls, but perhaps not. How difficult is it, really, to conjure a false name when it is convenient?_

ooo

"Just like your father to sell you to the highest bidder," Mandy muttered the next morning, as I watched her roll the dough for their bread rolls. "How convenient, too, that you've grown up to be such a beautiful woman." She sprinkled more flour over her board.

"Beautiful?" I asked her, dicing some potatoes. "You really think so?"

Mandy looked up with a faint look of shock, before her face softened. She gave me a warm smile. "Just like your mother, sweet. Beautiful as anything."

I sat in thought as Mandy set the rolls to bake, remembering the night before, when I had given myself a close inspection in the mirror. I had grown taller, that was certain – and my hair now ran down my back. It had grown lighter in my days in the sun, brightening the tinge of red that I had inherited from my mother. But as for beauty, I could not judge myself an expert. I was not haggish, but I was no belle, either.

"The Prince arrives in a few days," Mandy said. "The town is buzzing. It hasn't been this alive in years."

It was true. Suddenly it was as if all the flowers were blooming, the fishers had caught plenty, and all of the crops had flourished by the bushel. As if Char's homecoming had brought such convenient luck. Everywhere in town, blue and gold tapestries were being hung up to announce his return.

I only nodded, lost in my own thoughts.

"Are you prepared?"

Her question wafted to me. When I looked up, confused, she was looking at me expectedly.

"Prepared?"

"I mean to say if you've thought about the ball. Now that your father is here, he will insist you accompany them to the Prince's homecoming ball, if not just to announce that you're out in society and accepting offers."

Mandy's words sunk heavily into the pit of my stomach. How could I not have thought of it before? I was so used to being hidden away as Mum Olga and her daughters' slaves that I hadn't realized I would be expected at the ball. . . but perhaps, if I wore a mask and did my best to stay away. . .

"Oh, Mandy. What do I do?" I groaned.

She gave me a look of sympathy. "We'll think of something, Lady. In the meantime, take these cloves of garlic and strip them."

ooo

I spent the entire day trying to think of something that would prevent me from going to the ball. My smartest idea was to get ill, but the rain had let up to reveal abundant sunshine. Perhaps I could sneak in a poisonous herb from Mandy's garden? Father would never let me out in public with a green face. Or perhaps warts?

In the meantime, I avoided my father at all costs, for fear that he would unwittingly order me to go to the ball to meet some balding husband-to-be.

At the same time, I wondered how I would feel: being so close to Char, yet so far away. I loved him and I had to save him, but the fact that he would be here, in Kyrria, after two years. . . it was tempting. If I had half a mind I would go to the ball in disguise and make myself invisible, just to watch him from afar, dancing with his many admirers – or even just to brush against him as I walked past. I tempted myself with these thoughts, but the real danger lay in circumstance. What if he just happened to glance across the room? What if we clumsily bumped into each other? What if Hattie, or my father, mentioned my name and he just happened to be in close range?

Later on that night, I confided in Mandy.

"I can't go, Mandy. It would be too risky." Then I explained to her why.

"I agree, sweet, but what also endangers you is what they don't know. Your father may mention you to the Prince, or the Prince may ask your father about you. . . ."

I didn't hear the rest of what Mandy said. The blood had already been drained from my face.

ooo

That night I couldn't lull myself off to sleep. I lay in my bed, trying to sort out the battling thoughts inside me. What was I going to do? Though I hoped against it, I was almost certain that Char would ask about me – maybe he hated me, but he wasn't indifferent. One word from Hattie or Olive, or even Mum Olga or my father, and my entire lie would be exposed. He would ride over to the manor and demand an explanation, something that I just couldn't give. Or would he rather just accept things as they were – take it as a sign that I was too cowardly to face his feelings for me? And could Char, ever in his princely nature, come to recognize it as my character: a lass that was too afraid to tell a prince she did not share his affection, yet wasn't too afraid to get eaten by ogres or run away from finishing school? Char was kind, but he wasn't asinine.

If only I had more time. I would allow myself to be married off to the first client my father brought over, never mind the thinning hair or snaky smile. At least I could be near Char a good distance – not too near, but not so far away – and know that I was safe. Most importantly: he would be safe, too. He would be safe from me. Char was too scrupulous to even ever consider pursuing a married woman, no matter how passionate his love.

As soon as the faint light of the sun began to illuminate the sky, I got up and packed my meager things. A cloak, my Fairy Book, Tonic, food rations to last me a few days, and the little money I had saved from Olive's ever present greed. I scrawled a quick note to Mandy.

_Mandy,_

_If I know Char, I know that he will ask, and soon my deception will be exposed. For him to be safe, and Kyrria, I need to disappear – if only just for a little while. Maybe this isn't the wisest move, going without you (or your permission, at least) but I figure I am old enough, now, to have my own misadventures._

_I love you, and write to me._

_Ella_

I tore off the other half of the parchment and wrote another for my father.

_Father,_

_In your absence I have been treated far from your daughter. I would rather survive in the free and untame world than continue being imprisoned in my own house, only to be sold off to the wealthiest client._

_Regardless, I wish you well. Have comfort in knowing that I am safe._

_Your daughter,_

_Ella._

I placed it alongside Mandy's, and with one last solemn look, I walked out the door.


	2. Bandits!

oooooo

It was too early for anyone to be awake. Frell was still in silent slumber, and I walked through with little hassle. I did stumble across a few drunken men passed out on the cobblestones, but they were snoring loudly, sleeping off their vice. I stopped to have breakfast near a river bank, resting a bit while watching the sunrise. I could see the royal family's castle, shining in the distance. In a few more hours, I would be out of Frell's borders. I opened my fairy book to reveal a map tracking my journey. If I continued north, I would be on my way to Ayortha. As I sat and nibbled slowly on my loaf, I planned my route.

Areida was in Ayortha. Her family owned an inn there. Would she still remember me? I didn't even know what the inn was called! Nevertheless, if I found myself in Ayortha, I would ask around. I was eager to see her, and talk to her. It had been a very long time since I'd had a real friend to talk to – besides Mandy.

Closing my book, I continued on with my journey. The more I walked, the farther I went from town, and the quieter and more desolate my surroundings became. . . it made me yearn for company. I hummed as I walked. I hummed every single song I knew, and when I finished, I began to make some up.

I did, however, after a few hours, succumb into silence. I had entered a woodland environment, following a beaten dirt road, and I watched all of the trees around me. I marveled at their changing colors and the way they were caressed by any slight breeze. I admired the way they were predisposed by nature to change clothes every so often; as if change was a necessity to survive. I also admired their carefree way of being. How tireless would life be, to be a mere leaf swaying along to the changing wind?

By the time the sun was beginning to set, I had talked to a man on a donkey, making his way to Frell from a business expedition. He told me the way to Ayortha, giving me landmarks that hadn't been distinguished in the map. He also gave me a warning: "Be sure to check yourself in someplace safe when night falls. A young beautiful maiden like you, traveling alone. . . well, anyone sensible would tell you it's trouble."

Luckily enough, by the time night had fallen completely over Kyrria, I had found an isolated barn occupied by a husband and wife. They were elderly and offered me a place to sleep in exchange for a little company. They told me about how their children had all married and left home, rarely visiting because they were so far away. By the time they retired to bed, I settled myself in their stable, making my bed on a soft stack of hay. When morning came, I joined them for breakfast, and as I was heading out of the barn, Mrs. Sniddle offered to lend me her donkey.

I refused her, remembering the grim end of the donkey the elves had once lent me.

"Take it," she ordered. "You remind me so much of my daughter. I couldn't bear it, knowing I had sent you out without a donkey."

And so as she commanded, I took the donkey. And after a million expressions of gratitude, I was on my way.

ooo

My second night went well, as my fairy book did well in aiding me with illustrations of which forests were ogre-populated, and I found alternate routes to get to my destination. They were longer, of course, and on rougher terrain – but anything was better than marching straight into a colony of blood-thirsty ogres. It was on the third night that I encountered trouble: bandits.

I was resting on a fallen log, taking sips of Tonic. I was only a little distance from the main road, but well disguised amongst the trees. I began to hear a noise – like hooves of horses and a distant voice. I drew myself nearer, petting the donkey – I had named him Elmer – in comfort. There, I saw quite a crowd: knights on horses with a carriage behind it. I knew it had to be someone of noble standing, until I saw the flag it displayed. Kyrria's flag. As it came nearer, I could make out the crest of the royal family encrusted on the side of the door. Suddenly my heart had taken up the entire expanse of my chest, pounding like a blacksmith's hammer, that I could barely breathe.

They were going to pass through here. Within just feet from me, Char would pass. If I had any bit of sense, I would have quickly hurried back to my resting spot and hidden away, as far as possible. But instead I waited with bated breath as they drew closer. They were quiet, scanning their surroundings as carefully as possible. I strained to see Char in the carriage, but instead I saw someone else inside. Alarmed, I tried to examine the guards – and, there, with only my remembrance of him, I could recognize his eyes. He was disguised as one of the knights.

My heart ached as they began to pass. I hardly noticed the way my eyes began to get hot and my vision blurred. Knowing he was in a distant place and loving him was an entirely different feeling than being yards away from him, loving him, yet knowing he should never see me. I knew it required a different kind of love, the ultimate act of selflessness, for me to stay hidden away and contented with the ability to just see him, watch him, with no acknowledgment.

Just then, as I was hiding behind the tree, watching the flickering lights of their torches, I felt something clamp against my mouth and something strong bind me from behind. I felt something warm against my ear.

"Don't scream," he said lowly.

I only managed to make an airless squeak before the curse burned my lungs. He waited until the royal carriage was a mile down, its lights reduced to tiny yellow stars in the distance. Finally, he released his hand from my mouth, and I let out gasps of air.

I turned and realized my hands were bound. I stumbled and nearly fell, but he caught me and steadied me. I heard him laugh.

"Lord, you're just a maiden, aren't you?" he said.

"A poor one, at that!" somebody yelled in the distance. I peered through the darkness and could see at least five figures rifling through my things. Another was with Elmer, who was struggling with the presence of these ominous strangers. "Although I did find an interesting fairy trinket."

My fairy book! Something cold and icy enveloped my heart.

"How much money did you find?"

"Nothing but a few KJs," he answered in reply. I could hear a frown in his voice. "Like I said, poor."

"Then leave it alone," the man in front of me said. "We don't steal from the poor." I exhaled, grateful at my luck, though confused. "And start a fire."

He led me to where the other figures had gathered. Within a few minutes, they had already started a fire, picking up fallen branches, with the impatient few breaking nearby tree limbs. As soon as the fire was up, I could see my captors. They were young, just lads, some just a few years older than me. They were dressed in regular folk garb, nothing like the black on black I had theatrically imagined bandits to dress in.

The one who had bound my hands was around my age, give a few years. I could see how young he was in his face and lithe, slender build. He had brown hair and a kind yet mischievous face.

"I am sorry about this," he said, gesturing to the rope around my hands. They cut against my wrists. "Formality, as you know. We'll untie you eventually, when we're sure the royal family is miles away."

"Bandits who don't steal from the poor?" I finally said, my voice hoarse. I thought about telling Char, or Mandy. They would fall over in shock!

"Bandits with principle and integrity, ma'am," one said, a ginger, tipping an invisible hat.

"Now that's a contradiction!"

"And what about you, a lass traveling alone?" he said. "A little stupid, don't you think?"

"Delicious, according to ogres."

A surprised silence followed. Then, suddenly, an explosion of laughter from all five of my captors.

"This lass is funny!" one of them said. "And I thought all maidens were preoccupied with things like frilly petticoats and wealthy suitors!"

"The rich ones, maybe," the brown-haired one said, a little solemnly. But his eyes were smiling at me. "I'm James."

"I'm Ella," I said, though I hesitated to tell him my real name. "Now will you untie me?"

He looked around at his comrades, all sitting around the fire. They had brought out some ale and bread. I was surprised they had left my rations – though few – untouched. "Oh, let her go," one of them said, with a full mouth. "She's got nowhere to run."

"Except towards ogres," another quipped.

He jokingly bowed to me. "As you wish."

And then he cut the ropes from my hands. I winced as I saw the angry burns on my skin, but soon found myself joining them. Of course, not wholly by choice – the moment I was free, James ordered me: "Join us."

I was wary, of course, and slowly settled myself on the fallen log. They were all chattering amongst themselves, laughing carefreely, as if holding "poor maidens" hostage was something they did every day.

"Don't be afraid," James said lowly to me, and suddenly I felt warm and comfortable. I began to see James and his group of bandits as inviting as a spring river. They offered me a roll and some ale, which I gladly took.

James introduced them to me.

"John, Fred, Sam, and Tom," he said. Each of them nodded, their faces full of crumbs. "This fair maiden is Ella."

"From where do you hail, fair maiden Ella?" Tom asked, a dirty blond with rips on the knees of his breeches.

"Frell," I answered. "And all of you?"

"Scattered," Sam said. He had black hair and equally dark eyes, but a dimple on his cheek made his disposition less dismal. "Though each of us couldn't tell you much about our birth places. We've spent too much time on the road for any real, genuine memory."

We talked until the fire died down. Despite my original bias of them – foul, unscrupulous bandits – I began to discover, the more they talked and laughed, that they were not your average league of bandits. For one: they were just boys. Secondly, they revealed to have a good, moral background. I asked them why they did not steal from the poor (as real bandits did not care, as long as there was something valuable for them), and James said,

"We steal from those privileged enough that however much we take from them, they are not completely ruined," he confessed, very seriously. "They will still live comfortable lives when they go home, and their trauma will just be a tale, never to be repeated again."

"As you can very well see, Ella of Frell," Tom said, speaking up, "we are not princes or noblemen. And we prescribe to the philosophy that all poor men and women are kin. That is why we don't steal from poor people. It would be like stealing from our mothers and fathers, our brothers and sisters." Then he paused. "If we stole from them, we could be stealing their future. Their ramshackle home, supper for their children."

I sat in thought for a moment. It seemed like we all did, as everybody became quiet, their eyes hazily focused on the fire. I was born of privilege and of nobility, living a comfortable life. Perhaps in accordance to how much I possessed (very little, thanks to my stepsisters), I would be considered poor. But I had never known how to live day to day, not knowing whether I would have food for tomorrow.

"I'm not poor," I suddenly confessed. "I own very little, yes – but I was born privileged. My father is a merchant, and my best friend was our cook, Mandy."

They all seemed very intrigued by this. "Are you sure? No privileged lass could have any reason to run away from a satisfactory life." They began to chortle.

James, however, was looking at me very closely. "I sense you have very many secrets, Ella of Frell," he whispered to me, as the rest of his friends moved on to another topic.

If I wasn't sure the fire was substantial, I could have sworn I felt myself blush.

ooo

We all fell asleep around the fire. When I woke up, the fire was gone and the sun was barely peeking through the mountains. I thought about whether I should make a run for it, but I hesitated as I looked around at the four boys sleeping around me, snoring loudly. I stopped in thought. Wait a minute. Four?

"You're awake," a voice said.

I jumped. I looked up to see James, smirking at me.

"I hope you're not planning on running away, just after you've made such accommodating friends?"

"Believe it or not, I am on a journey and I have a destination I must reach," I said firmly.

"Life, Ella," he said, adjusting his vest, "is a journey. Hasn't anybody ever told you that?" He offered me some water in a tin cup. "Drink it."

I obediently drank until the last drop was gone. I hastily wiped my chin.

"I'm intrigued by this journey," he said, sitting next to me. "Tell me about it."

Another order. I inwardly moaned. James, being so accustomed to being the leader of his group, was so used to giving orders that it seemed to be in his nature.

"I'm on my way to Ayortha," I said.

"Ayortha? What for?"

"To visit my friend, Areida."

"That's an awful long journey just to have a tete-a-tete with an old friend." He paused, as if thinking. "Why did you run away from Frell?"

I was glad he didn't order me to answer it. "I needed a change," was all I said.

"Change?" he scoffed. "If you wanted change, you could have gone to the market for a new dress. You could have had cake for dinner, or thrown a surprise party."

"I believe," I huffed, standing, "our definitions of change are completely different."

"That much is apparent," he remarked, hiding a smile. "But I can't quite figure you out. You are no ordinary runaway maiden from Frell."

I began to gather my things, careful to be quiet that the others didn't stir. I did feel a little warmed, though, when I saw Elmer had been fed a carrot. I wondered who had done it.

"There is something that is making you run," he insisted. "Something very dark in your formerly privileged life."

"We can't all be blessed to live our entire lives in sunshine," I told him, trying to untie Elmer from the tree.

"I know. All six of us here are living testaments to that," he said. "We are all children of dark times, Ella. It's not as exclusive a club as you might think."

My fingers fumbled as I struggled to untie the knot. Had James tied this? He was beginning to have the knack for impossible rope-tying.

He grabbed it from my hand, but did not attempt to undo it. "You should join us, Ella," he said seriously.

"Join you!" I exclaimed in a whisper, careful not to raise my voice. "A company of bandits! Why don't I just march to the town square and _ask_ to be hung!" I shook away the proposition. "I have my own agenda, thanks."

He rolled his eyes. "We will accompany you to Ayortha. That's what I meant. Imagine you as a bandit!" Then he stopped. "Actually, it's not a bad picture."

"I don't trust you," I told him. I was determined to make this journey on my own.

"Why not? We untied you, we left your things alone, and I even fed your donkey!"

"Why are you so eager to follow me? Don't you have wealthy travelers to rob, and other maidens to keep hostage?" His persistence was really becoming quite irritating – and inconvenient.

He laughed. Behind him, Tom began to sleepily sit up.

"Perhaps we have some business in Ayortha ourselves."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Since when?"

"Since I decided, this morning." He smirked. "We're going with you, Ella. The road is much too treacherous for you to go alone. Imagine encountering bandits with even less scruples than us – or worse, ogres! It's settled," he said. "Now have some breakfast."


	3. Purpose and Privilege

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

oooooo

They traveled with me on horseback. I imagined it to be an odd sight – five boys on horseback, towering over the single maiden, riding on a donkey. Nevertheless, they proved to be entertaining company. They were all good-spirited and cheerful, always finding something to laugh about. I admired their spirit. From our earlier conversation I could guess their background in poverty, but they did not mention anything about their former lives again.

As we rested to have lunch, I asked them a question.

"Last night," I said, "the Prince's carriage was riding by, but you didn't ambush him. Why not?"

"Perhaps your vision isn't so well," Fred said, "but the Prince had six knights with him. We wouldn't dare to stir that kind of trouble."

I nodded, seeing their clear logic. I did, however, cast a glance at James. He was quiet, eating his apple. His demeanor changed when I brought up Char, but only subtly so.

As we rode on, I learned things about them. Sam was colorblind. Fred was ridiculously afraid of cats. Only a few of them were able to read, and even fewer could write. Tom had been arranged to marry a distant cousin, and he had run away the day after he had seen her for the first time. The story of how they all came to be so intricately connected in a bandit group was the most interesting – as if by a certain string of random events, they all found each other.

But they were also vastly interested in my own history. I told them about Mandy and my mother, about running away from finishing school, and Mum Olga and her dreadful daughters. I mentioned my association with the Prince, but only in passing – I didn't want them to prod or pry, in case they began to discover they had an advantage.

"No wonder you ran away from home," Fred solemnly remarked, after I told them about Hattie and Olive. "A servant in your own house!"

At nightfall they built another fire. We'd had a long day, so they fell asleep not too long after they'd had supper. I stayed up to look through my fairy book, oddly comforted by their chorus of snores.

I found a letter from Mandy.

_Dear Ella, _

_I hope you are well. I'll admit you are too much of a brave chit for your own good, but I cannot deny that I understand your choice. I presented your father with your letter, and he was furious. He looked for you all around town, but you were long gone._

_I wish you could see how beautiful it is here with the Prince's soon coming arrival. Everybody is in high spirits, Lady. I believe you would have found it refreshing from the usual dreariness._

_Drink your Tonic. We all miss you dearly. _

On the next page, I found a short entry from Char's journal.

_We are on our way back to Kyrria. I've been disguised as a knight to mislead any wandering thieves, and Sir Stephan has taken to be my decoy in the carriage. I have reason to believe that he is liking the pretense quite much._

_Though I am excited to see my family, I feel unsettled at the thought of being there again. Even though I know she's long uprooted from Frell, I am nervous. There are knots in my stomach. I can't decide if it would be the greatest dream or an agonizing nightmare if I were to encounter her again._

I closed my eyes, feeling my breath hitch at the thought of him. I laid down and cried silently until I finally fell asleep.

ooo

The next day, we were all thrilled to come upon a little lake. The five quickly undressed to their undergarments and jumped in, whooping and splashing each other. I stayed on the bank. I was tempted to join them, but I blushed at the thought of stripping down to my undergarments in front of five boys. If I had been twelve, no problem. But I was eighteen now and thus had to take precautions I wasn't very happy about.

Luckily, they asked me to join them, and had not ordered. I was able to politely decline.

As they were swimming, I ventured off and found a connecting river. I scanned my surroundings, still able to hear their faint laughter, and slipped out of my dress. As I waded into the cold water, it felt like something short of heaven. Chilly, yes, but liberating – especially after not having bathed for four days.

Refreshed, I joined them again at the lake, and we all continued with our journey.

"Why aren't you married?" James asked.

We had just passed one of the landmarks the business man had told me about – a giant charcoal oak tree – and I was thrilled that we were closer to Ayortha.

"I mean, you're old enough," he said.

I smiled bitterly, thinking of Char's old letters. _Are you still too young to marry?_

"What he means to say is, you're too pretty of a lass to have gone without suitors," Fred cheekily said.

"Maybe she's a terrible nag," suggested Sam.

"Perhaps she's got a wooden leg."

"Or fake teeth."

"Or scales underneath her dress."

They all exploded with laughter, but afterwards quieted down to hear my answer.

"Is there any appropriate reason for a maiden to remain unmarried?" I wondered aloud. I imagined their reactions if I were to tell them that I could have been their princess. I doubted they would have believed me, even though they proved to have an extravagant imagination.

"You could say you just aren't in love," said Tom.

I liked that. "Then I say that I'm just not in love."

Fred scoffed. "What's love compared to dinner cakes and riches? I bet you had lines of noblemen fighting for your hand."

I blushed at their generosity, but I dismantled the myth. "If there were lines, then they were invisible."

James was looking at me. "Or perhaps that's why you're running away – from an old, toothless fiancé!" He laughed heartily.

"You forgot sinfully rich," Fred said.

"Right. From an old, toothless, sinfully rich fiancé," he mended.

Even I found myself laughing. Oh, how I could distance myself away from that reality – a reality that had been so close to being mine – so comfortably now. "Nearly, but no."

Despite the joyous distractions, I was distant that day. It was the 15th, the day of Char's homecoming ball. Every break we took, I discreetly hid away and stole a few moments to look through my fairy book. All I found were notes from the royal organizers about what platters they were going to serve, and a picture of Hattie admiring herself in the mirror in a plum-purple satin dress.

As night began to fall, my stomach felt more and more unsettled. I couldn't eat. As I looked over at the distant lights of Kyrria, I wondered how Char looked. Dashing and unbearably handsome, as usual. Which maiden would he dance with first? Would he be happy? Could tonight be the night he fell in love with somebody else?

More and more, I wished I was there. I allowed myself the luxury of imagining what would have happened, if I had gone. I would have worn a pretty dress – one of Mother's old ones that Father had kept from Mum Olga and her daughters, in hopes of selling it. The one with the crystal beading at the neckline and the royal blue train. It had always been my favorite amongst her gowns. She always looked so radiant in it, and I had always hoped I could someday wear it and, if I were lucky, look half as lovely as she did.

At first I would slip into the crowd unnoticed, but Char and I would meet eyes from across the room. He would rush to me immediately, ignoring the flocks of girls that batted their eyes at him. And before I could have had a chance to explain, he would have kissed me. It would have been a glorious kiss, the kind of kiss stored away for two hopeful years, with volcanic passion. The kiss of true love.

"You look distracted," James said, as the other boys began to dance and play-fight. I had been keeping my eyes on the fire, watching its changing form. "And I heard you cry last night. Do you miss home?"

"A little," I admitted. I missed Mandy. The manor had stopped being my home a very long time ago. "Don't you?"

He shrugged, whittling a piece of wood in his hands with a short and sharp paring knife. "You're away from home long enough, the idea takes a vague shape. Soon you realize you just miss the idea of home – someplace you belong, someplace you can never outgrow – and not home itself."

I looked at him then. Took in his serious countenance as the light of the fire played against it. He looked up and caught me looking at him, and I quickly looked away.

"Without you, they'd be lost, wouldn't they?" I said, nodding to the boys.

"They would have eventually found their way," he answered. "Before, they had no purpose. Now they do."

I scoffed. "Living on the road and stealing from the wealthy – you call that a purpose?"

He stopped whittling and looked at me. "And what, pray, do you consider a purpose?"

"Striving for a better way of being," I answered with fire. "Helping people. Liberating a land."

Now it was his turn to scoff. "And what about you, Ella of Frell? Which of the three are you hoping to accomplish in your immediate future, hmm?"

"The first, if I'm lucky."

"That," he said intensely, his eyes going dark, "is the difference between you and us. You, Ella, who were born of privilege with a cook and a merchant father. You have the luxury of free time to contemplate your life and the many different ways you can endeavor upon it. Sam, Fred, Tom, John and I – we were born with no such time. We were born knowing the urgency of survival, of the importance of having enough food to remain hungry but not to starve. And you – you live with time as a friend and comfort, don't you? Just waiting, chatting away with your cook, for a wealthy old bag to come and whisk you away from your terrible life.

"No, we know only one way to live life – and that is to survive."

Then, with a look of disgust, he stood and walked away, towards the other end of the forest. Some of the boys stopped and called after him as he left, before giving me a curious glance. I pretended to busy myself with my things, feeling warm and flustered with shame.

"James gets a little hot-headed from time to time," Sam said. "Especially if someone argues with him."

"And nobody's done that for quite a long time," added Tom.

ooo

Later on that night, I awoke. The fire was dying down, but still provided me with some light. Making sure everyone around me was sound asleep – James included, who had returned some time after I had drifted off to sleep – I opened my fairy book. There was an entry from Char's journal.

_Tonight was the homecoming ball at Kyrria, and just as I suspected: nothing has changed. The same lasses in the same overflowing yards of fabric with the same antics of persuasion. I spent all night denying myself the urge to look for her on the off chance that she dared to show up._

_Ella's horrific stepsister, Hattie, managed to corner me for a dance. She blathered on and on, all the while stepping on my toes the entire session, until I finally asked about Ella. I asked how she thought Ella might be liking the married life. Hattie suddenly turned red – almost purple, even – and threw her head back and laughed. 'Ella!' she said. 'Married? Well, isn't that the silliest thing ever said!'_

_I felt as if my heart had frozen over. I had to stop dancing or else I knew that I would have fumbled all the steps. I asked her to explain herself, and she said that Ella had never been and isn't married. 'She's been lying to you, Prince Charmont,' she cooed. 'Besides, who would ever want Ella, that scrawny old thing?'_

_My thoughts swirled somewhere around my head. She talked on and the last thing I caught was that Ella had run away just days ago, and that she was nowhere to be found._

_I do not know what to make of this. I hastily ended my dance with Hattie and headed out to the private gardens to collect my thoughts, but nothing made sense. So Ella wasn't married? Then what reason did she have to lie to me? At first I suspected her stepsister of deception, but it was obvious she had no part in it. And furthermore, why had Ella run away just days before my arriving home? Could it possible that Ella had constructed such an intricate lie in a way to avoid injuring my pride?_

_I know Ella. That is not in her character._

_My thoughts are restless. The rest of the evening went by in an indistinguishable blur. I know that I shouldn't, but I have to find her._

And with that, the fire suddenly died out.


	4. Ayortha at Last

oooooo

That morning I awoke to a frenzy.

I was shaken awake. "Quickly, Ella. Ogres are near."

I could swear I almost leapt up. James, who had been the one to wake me, shoved my belongings to me and helped me on my donkey. All of the other boys had packed up expediently, already on their horses, before we quickly – but as silently as possible – rode out of the forest and into the main road.

"How did you know?" I asked over the noise of the horses' hooves.

"I was, erm, doing a bit of business when I saw them in the distance," Fred said, getting a bit pink in the face. Then he glanced back. "Faster!"

I looked behind us and we could see the ogres running quickly to catch up, a cloud of dust gathering around them. There were four, each with glinting red eyes and razored teeth, and I willed Elmer to go faster. They were far enough that their words couldn't enchant us, but I knew they would soon gain on us.

"Sing, as loud as you can!" I said to them. "If you give them any chance to talk, they'll bewitch you into breakfast!"

Without a moment's pause, all six of us began to sing different songs at once. It surprised me to see that Sam was a Soprano. More often than not, their voices cracked.

The more we rode at such a quickly pace, the more I fell behind. Farmers' donkeys were not made for escaping ogres, that much was apparent. I could see James looking at me with wide eyes, but I yelled over the songs. "I'm fine! The ogres are still a good distance away!"

Except they weren't. They were gaining on us – on me, at least.

"Get on my horse, Ella!" James called out to me. "Leave the donkey!"

"I can't!" I felt nauseous at the thought of leaving another donkey to become an ogre's feast, but soon the curse began to take its effect on me. I began to fidget. He was too far – how could I get on?

James' swears went unheard underneath the cacophony of songs. I panicked as Elmer began to slow down into a fast trot; I could sense he was exhausted. His poor little heart was beating too fast. Suddenly, I could hear the ogres, and as I was about to pass out from refusing the curse, their slimy speak crept past my song.

"Why do you run away from your friends? Stop and talk with us for awhile."

I stopped Elmer, and began to turn towards the ogres. The curse relented. Suddenly they became radiant with light, and their filthy faces became inviting and friendly. Why had I ever thought they wanted to hurt me?

Their pace quickened, and I could not wait to receive them.

"Ella, get on!"

Suddenly, I was snatched up by the arms. I gasped as I found myself behind James, glancing at Sam beside him, who had helped. Both were still singing as loudly as they could, and soon we were galloping away, leaving an exhausted Elmer. I cried out as the cloud of dust soon overtook him. The last thing I saw, before I heard the tearing of flesh and Elmer's last cry, were his inky black eyes, watching me as we got away.

I dug my face into James' back, stifling a sob. We kept singing until our voices were hoarse and the ogres were no longer visible, and we caught up to the other three boys, who had slowed down to wait. We didn't stop but cautiously rode along, making sure to look behind us every now and then.

"We shouldn't see them for awhile," James said. "They should be content." His voice was serious, and a little sad. He didn't look at me.

By noon, we were only a few miles away from Ayortha. From where we rested on the hillside I could see the tiny homes and the lush green of their crops. I drank some water and ate an apple in silence as the other boys quietly talked amongst themselves. I thought about Char – would he really look for me? But thoughts about James and our argument last night also occupied my mind. Besides Char, I had never seen anyone else have such passion when they spoke. I felt compelled to apologize, but my pride hindered me from doing so. He was right about some things, yes; but he didn't know my life. How could he assume my privileged life had been no different from any other, yet insist that I was no ordinary runaway maiden?

"How are you feeling?"

I looked up to see James, holding a half-eaten apple.

I bit into mine. "Better, thanks."

He stood there for a few moments, as if waiting to make more conversation, but I kept my gaze on the nearby land of Ayortha.

"It's very unbecoming of a lass to refuse gratitude to a man that saved her life," he announced.

I met his eyes for a moment. "I'm grateful." Then I turned my gaze back to where I had been looking.

"I won't accept it unless you mean it." He tossed the apple around in his hands. "You are certainly a great deal more dimwitted than I thought if you're upset. Elmer was a noble donkey, Ella, but it would have been suicide to stay with him."

"I'm not upset about Elmer," I snapped at him. "At least, not entirely."

He raised his eyebrows in intrigue, waiting for me to go on.

"You were right, last night. But you were also wrong. Don't assume you know everything about my life," I said to him, seriously. "Privileged or not."

"And don't you," he said, sitting down next to me, "lecture us on how to be."

I sighed. "Fine."

Then we sat in silence, listening to the crunch of our apples as we ate.

"Why do you have such a vendetta against people of privilege?" I finally asked him, curious.

"You mean aside from the fact that they leech from the labors of the poor and show no mercy to those that make them rich?" he scoffed. "I'm afraid it'll be a long story, Ella of Frell, and as it is, we must get going."

He tossed the apple core down the hill and then offered me a hand. I took it, and we headed back to the rest of the lads to continue our way to Ayortha.

I have to admit I spent some of the way wondering. I was wildly curious. But after a few hours, we finally reached Ayortha's borders and I felt restless with excitement as I squirmed behind James on his horse. Ayortha looked a lot like Frell, but they were a business town – lots of trading and dealing – and the buildings were all squeezed together on the cobblestone streets, stacked taller than they were wide. Frell, on the other hand, stretched over vast acres of land, as its main focus was agriculture. Ayortha had its own share of crops, but nowhere near the variety and abundance of Frell.

I had never been to Ayortha. I looked up at its gray buildings, decorated with stone ivies and gargoyles, and felt a tingle down my spine.

James helped me down as many Ayorthaians greeted us and smiled.

"I believe this is where we leave you, Ella of Frell," he said. I nodded and untied my belongings from his.

"Where will you go?" I asked.

He smiled, as if pleased I was concerned. "Around, I'm sure. We'll be back for you."

I thanked them for accompanying me, which appeared to further please him. Tom, Fred, Sam and John said goodbye. Fred pretended to tip a hat to me, smiling, before they rode off and I found myself lost in the crowd, alone.

I began to walk and ask around, looking for Areida and her family.

ooo

Sometimes I could not dispute my luck. Just an hour after asking around, a gentle woman pointed me over to where Areida and her family's inn were. My heart began to pound, my limbs suddenly wobbly with nervousness, as I approached their inn. There was a decorative wooden sign above their door: Golden Horse Inn. Inside I could see a few guests, coming and going.

I approached the woman at the desk. She had dark hair with graying streaks, and cinnamon-brown skin, with features that looked vaguely familiar.

She greeted me with a warm smile. "Hello there," she said to me in Kyrrian. I suddenly remembered that I didn't exactly blend in with the Ayorthaians. "Did you want to book a room?"

"Actually," I said, "I'm looking for my friend Areida. I was told this was her family's inn."

Her eyes brightened in recognition. "But of course! I am her mother, Antonia. Let me get her for you." She disappeared then, going through a door behind her, and a few moments later, Areida emerged. She was much taller now, and her hair had grown almost past her waist. When she saw me, her hands flew up to her mouth with wide eyes.

"Ella? Is that you?" she gasped.

I was smiling so hard it began to hurt. As I nodded, she came around and smothered me in a fierce hug.

"It's been so long! I thought. . . well, I have been dying to know what happened to you since you ran away from finishing school!"

Her mother, Antonia, raised her eyebrows. "So this is the plucky lass that ran away from finishing school?"

"Yes, Mama," Areida said, beaming. "And my only friend there." She took my hands. "We must talk. I have imagined many scenarios your life might have taken, and I am desperate to know which ones I was right about."

ooo

Areida took me to the small garden behind their inn. It was empty, save for the gardener, who tipped his hat to us before leaving to trim a far corner. We strolled around for hours as we talked. She told me about how she had finished finishing school, but did not make any friends after I had left. At that I felt some guilt, but I knew leaving was a superior choice than ending my friendship with her. If I left, it meant I could always come back. If I ended things, there was no way of mending them again.

I told Areida of my adventures, reluctantly leaving out Char and his proposal. I wanted desperately to tell her – to tell anyone – but something kept me from telling. I finished with telling her about Father's plan of marrying me off, and how I had run away and met a company of bandits that helped me escape from ogres.

Areida was shocked and pleased. "Oh, Ella! Your life seems like such an adventure! I've imagined many things, but bandits? Ogres? Never could I have even dreamed!"

I asked her if I could stay at the inn for awhile. I didn't have money, but I would gladly work. I reminded her that I had been a cook's helper for most of my life. She reassured me, "Ella, you would be doing _me_ a favor if you stayed. Please don't trouble yourself, my family would be honored." She paused, smiling. "Speaking of my family, come. You must meet them. I have told them all about you, and they will be just as excited to meet the maiden daring enough to escape from the dreadfulness that is finishing school."

ooo

The night was full of festivities. I became well-acquainted with Areida and her family. Her father, Anoth, was a soft-spoken man who smiled with his eyes; her two older brothers Zolar and Tomas who ran the inn with her father, were diplomatic when it called for but playful and hilarious; as well as her two sisters Aretha and Anitha, who followed Areida's every step. They got along so well, laughing and talking, that I began to think of how much they differed from my family at home.

"Ella has run away from her scheming father," Areida said, as we all gathered to eat in her family's private quarters at the hind of the inn. "He is trying to marry her off to a balding sire with missing teeth."

"But perhaps he has a gentle disposition?" asked her mother.

"My father does not deal with such men," I said. "At least, not recently."

"Areida said you have met bandits!" Anitha exclaimed, with grape juice dripping from her chin. "Were they not terrible?"

"Not at all!" I laughed. "To my shock, they were a friendly group of boys." I told them about their odd philosophy when it came to thieving, and the family listened on, captivated.

"What a strange breed of bandits, indeed!" Tomas said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You must consider yourself lucky, Ella, that you happened upon their kind and not the other."

I smiled and nodded. I was grateful for my luck so far on this journey, that much was undeniable. I wondered where James and the boys could be now. I sincerely hoped nothing would come to harm them. They picked and chose their victims, but what would happen if they just happened to choose the wrong traveling nobleman to plunder?

At the end of the night, Areida led me to where I would be staying. They lent me a room in their inn, just across the hall from hers. She bid me good night and gave me one last hug. "I'm so glad you came to see me, Ella," she whispered.

I was exhausted. I slowly crept into the bed, sighing with contentment as I felt the soft feather mattress – it had been so long since I had slept on a real bed! After days of sleeping on piles of leaves and an unforgiving dirt floor, my aching back was thankful.

I took my fairy book from my knapsack and opened it, my fingers fumbling with the pages as I remembered the last entry I had read.

I quickly skimmed through a story about a hunter that had fallen in love with a maiden, who ended up keeping her hostage as revenge against the king of their land, who had also fallen for her. I read the words but they did not register. After the story, I finally found a letter from Mandy.

_Lady!_

_The Prince stopped by today, along with his knights. They demanded to talk to your father and everyone in the household, me included. The Prince questioned your father about you, and your father told him that you had run away just over a week ago. The Prince regarded all of this with a very serious face. He looks so much older than he did two years ago, sweet. He has become quite a man, if I say so myself._

_Then he took me aside, and said, 'I know that Ella was very fond of you, and you of her. Thus I know you must be privy to knowledge that no one else in this house knows.' Then his eyes softened. 'Do you know where she went?'_

_I told him I didn't, and that you had left early in the morning without my knowing. He nodded. I could see that he was disappointed._

_Then he graciously thanked me, bowed, and left with his knights._

_He still loves you, Lady. He wouldn't have come if he didn't. I heard Hattie chatting away this morning about her conversation at the ball with the Prince. Your name came up. I assume you must know why, and why he paid us a visit this morning._

_I hope you are safe, wherever you are. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't miss you._

_Your cook,_

_Mandy._

I closed the fairy book, my heart stricken with confusing emotions. Gladness that he still loved me, joy that he was worried – but also fear that he would find me, and anxiety that I might have to break his heart a second time. I silently begged him to stay in Frell, that one of his knights might convince him that it would be a fruitless journey to look for me. I even hoped one of them might be courageous enough to say, "Look how far she goes to avoid you!" And, his pride injured, he might listen and convince himself that I am happy without him, and that away from him was where I intended to be.

I was not aware that I had begun to cry. I was exhausted – but content – but miserable – and it led me to a foreign place: numbness. I stared up at the blurry ceiling and eventually slipped into a dreamless sleep.

ooo

Over the next few days, the fairy book did not reveal anything more about Char. I attempted to busy myself by helping Areida with her duties around the inn: helping the cooks, talking to the guests, cleaning, going to the market, updating the inn records. She educated me more about Ayortha and taught me more Ayorthaian, including some songs, and we giggled over the silent flirtation she was having with a fisherman's son. In all of these tasks I sought to lose myself: to be content with my situation, to enjoy Areida's company, to relish the comfortable situation I had such luck to find. I slept in a bed every night, I had plenty of food, and gone were the constant threat of ogres. It was beyond what I had ever expected.

It was one night that I was having dinner with her family that her mother spoke up. Antonia, who ran the inn with her husband and two sons, was the social butterfly of the family. She often went around town to do business, as well as catch up on kingdom gossip.

"Word has it that the prince is searching the country far and wide for a lass," she said with a smile.

I stiffened, but kept eating to seem indifferent. My ears burned to hear more.

"Must be a great beauty," Tomas remarked, and I inwardly laughed. Oh, but if only they knew!

Areida spoke up. "I don't believe Prince Charmont to be a man that would focus solely on looks, Tomas," she said dryly.

"I am mistaken," he smirked. "Obviously you know much more about Prince Charmont than we do." Beside him, Zolar snickered.

"Not me," Areida said, before suddenly turning to me. "But Ella. Ella's friends with the Prince. He and knights saved her from some ogres a few years ago. He even captured a centaur for her."

"Ella saved from ogres by a prince!" Anitha said, giddy with pleasure. "What a fairytale you must live in!"

They all looked at me, and I confirmed. "He's a perfect gentleman."

"Perfect?" echoed Tomas, chuckling. "Then Prince Charmont must defy all laws of nature with his perfection."

"Unless Ella can vouch that he has at least one insignificant flaw," said Zolar. "What about it, Ella? Is his smile crooked? Does he snort when he laughs? Does he slurp his soup?"

They all looked at me expectantly. I thought of Char – no, he wasn't perfect. He had once confessed to me that he was too proud, but it was his humbleness that put him in an even better light. Who was perfect, really? And what did perfection mean, exactly, when there was no single definition that everybody prescribed to?

I smiled faintly, remembering my journey with Sir Stephan. It had been long ago, but I still remember what he'd said. "He's much too serious for a lad his age," I repeated. "He doesn't play and laugh as much as he should."

"Yes, I did get that feeling from him when he stayed here, at the inn," Antonia mused. "Wise beyond his years, but not exactly the type to laugh and joke like all other lads his age."

"Being royalty is a matter of complete seriousness," Tomas said, smiling. "Nothing laughable about it."

"Even their bedpans," quipped Zolar. "I've heard they're made of gold."

"Very serious gold."

They grinned at each other, and Areida rolled her eyes.

"Do you know where he's looking?" I asked Antonia.

"Not the slightest idea," she answered. "Frell first, I suppose. Then here."


	5. Letters to Lost Loves

**A/N**: Very very late update! A thousand apologies but a thousand hugs and kisses to those of you who have story alerted this baby and have returned! MWAH!

**Disclaimer**: The Ayorthaian song here is taken from Gail Carson Levine's _Ella Enchanted_, page 28.

oooo

I flipped through my fairy book, my eyes hurriedly scanning every page for any news of Char planning to come to Ayortha. I knew that Antonia was right – if Char really was searching far and wide for me, he would surely come to Ayortha – but I was desperate for some proof. A page in his diary, a look at his map, a note to his knights, a letter to his parents or Cecilia – anything.

Once I had gone through the entire book without any luck on finding even one mention of Char, I leaned back against the bed frame, sighing, and drew my knees up to my chest. I could feel my eyes hotly blur at the situation that loomed over me like an ominous dark cloud. If Char was coming here, that meant I had to leave Areida and her family. I would go back to being a nomad, drifting from place to place, sleeping on beds of leaves in forests, easily vulnerable to ogre attacks and bandits of an even lesser-scrupulous nature. I silently agonized over losing the comfort I had settled into, especially the comfort of pleasant company.

What would I tell Areida? It would mean lying to her again. It meant lying, always, to anyone I cared about.

The door creaked open. I quickly wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.

"Ella? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I said, plastering on a smile.

She didn't look entirely convinced, but nodded anyway. "My family and I are going to an Enoye. It's a special custom for Ayorthaians. Would you like to come?"

"Of course." I stood up, sliding my fairy book back under my pillow, and followed Areida outside of the inn. We trailed behind her family, who had gone ahead.

As we made our way to the river, I asked Areida what it was, since I had never heard of an Enoye before. She smiled and told me that it would be better for me to see for myself. "It's quite beautiful. Describing it in words alone would do it no justice."

Eventually the cobblestones of the main path leveled out into flat dirt, and I could see the rest of the townspeople gathered up on the bank of the river. It was dark, with only the distant stars and the light of the waning moon to guide us, but as we came closer I could make out little white lights drifting along the water, bobbing up and down in the gentle current. Soon there were many of them, some in clusters and some alone, illuminating the length of river. I gasped, sweeping aside some hanging leaves of a tree.

Beside me, Areida smiled at my awe. "It's extraordinary, is it not? Even now, it takes my breath away."

"What is it?" I asked, watching a few of the townspeople setting the lights down at the mouth of the river, setting them free.

"It's an ancient Ayorthaian tradition. Once a year when the air is warm and the North wind passes through, some of the townspeople write letters on waxed parchment paper. They address them to those who are no longer with them – dead loved ones or even those who are still living, but by some hand dealt by fate, cannot be with them." At this, Areida's gaze flickered somberly towards me, and I blushed as I moved my eyes back to the floating lights. "Then they fold the letters up into little paper boats and put a candle inside to guide the way. Some people believe that on this single day of the year, the river becomes a portal for destiny and takes your letter to them."

I watched with a sad pang in my heart as an old woman in front of us crouched and set her own letter-boat on the river.

"What sort of letters?" I asked softly.

"Some write to say goodbye. Some write to keep the memory of them alive. Some write to tell unsaid truths."

"Have you ever written one?"

"Once," she replied, and I caught her eyes as they quickly glanced at Elior, the fisherman's son. I hid my smile behind my hand just as a woman came to us with a basket of parchment and quills, asking us if we wanted to write a letter.

I hesitated, not quite sure, when Areida said she would and the woman handed her a parchment and something to write with, tied together with a piece of string, before quickly moving onto the people next to us.

"Here." Areida pressed the bundle into my hands. "Write."

"But Areida—" I began to protest, even though the spell was already making my hands fidget.

"But nothing," she said firmly. "Ella of Frell, I know there are details of your life you keep from me. I'm not a fool – and I don't resent you for it. But I can tell something is weighing heavily on your heart, and I think this can do some good for you. So will you do it – for me?"

The way Areida was looking at me, so pleadingly, made me nod and tell her that I would. She let go of my hands.

"You can sit over there by the tree while you write," she told me. "I'll be close by. I'll come find you after." And with a reassuring smile, Areida was gone, lost in the crowd of people oohing and ahhing over the multiplying lights in the river. I sighed silently to myself, clutching the bundle of parchment and ink to my chest, as I turned and settled myself against the firm trunk of the tree. I untied the string and dipped the quill into ink, thinking.

I thought of writing to Mandy to let her know I was all right, and to tell her about the bandits and Areida's family. But the image of Char at the manor, questioning all of the servants about me, hovered in my heart. It would have been amazing, I thought to myself, to see him in all his royalty, tall and dignified and kind, against the bleak backdrop of the manor walls I had spent years cleaning. I wonder if, by the simple act of walking into the manor, he had made it beautiful again. I allowed myself the pleasure of imagining how the servants whispered and wondered about why the Prince of Kyrria would be asking about me, Ella of Frell, who had practically been more a servant than she was a Lady. And the look on Hattie's, Olive's, and Mum Olga's face. . . I shook it away, pulling myself back from the wiles of my imagination.

Finally, I pressed the quill onto the parchment and watched the ink bleed a little before writing.

_I love you. A thousand times and more. Please don't come and find me._

I didn't write his name and I didn't write mine. I wiped off the quill on the edge of my skirt and began folding the parchment into the boats I had seen on the river. The same woman who had been handing out the bundles handed me a small candle as I stood on the river mouth, mesmerized by the lights. Then, finally, with trembling hands, I bent down on my knees and, setting it on the river, let it go.

I watched as it quickly joined dozens of others, becoming lost. I didn't know whether I believed in Areida's story or not – whether these letter boats ever reached the people they were meant for. Perhaps it wasn't about whether they were ever received. Perhaps it was just the comfort of sending them – of writing them down, and sending them away. Giving them up to destiny.

As I stepped back, I felt Areida appear by my side. I'd had a feeling she had been watching me from afar and had been waiting for me, but I didn't say a word. Instead, Areida comfortingly squeezed my hand and we began to head back to the inn.

ooo

Over the next few nights, I waited for news of Char from my book and kept my ears attuned to any talk that surrounded him. Since the Prince had never before showed any particular interest in any woman, rumors swirled spectacularly about his recent mission and this lady he sought. They conjured up fantastic scenarios in which the Prince might have met this maiden – was she a princess, or a commoner? Some said she was half-fairy and beguiled him with magic. Some said she didn't even exist at all, and that this was just a royal cover for another conquest.

Finally, one night, I came across a diary entry from Cecilia.

_It seems the rumors have finally reached my parents. I overheard Mother and Char talking today while I was supposed to be off studying my languages. My windows were open and Char and Mother were taking stroll in the gardens to bask in the warm weather._

_She told him that she wasn't one to invest in rumors and gossip, since that was unbecoming for anyone in the royal family, but admitted it had her curiosity piqued. Was there any truth? she asked. Are you in love with a maiden, my noble son?_

_My brother took a moment to answer. I wish I could have seen his face, but I think it was one of somber thought and contemplation. He would never lie to Mother. Char is too good that way._

_He confessed to her that he was, and that he had been, for a length of time. Even before he had gone to court in Ayortha, and even before he had gone with his knights on the peace negotiations mission. I wondered if this shocked Mother, but her reaction was not one of ignorance, as if he was simply confirming her quiet suspicions._

"_I seek your counsel, Mother, for you are far wiser in the ways of love than I could ever be," he said, and his voice was soft, although inlaid with frustration. "Perhaps it was unwise of me for have waited for so long, but for a time I thought it was hopeless. Now recent events have shown me that there are things that don't match up, and I find myself wanting to find a real answer. I struggle with the thought of never completely knowing and I torture myself with questions and possibilities."_

_I could not disagree there. Though my brother has tried his best to be polite and engaging since his homecoming ball, Char is not gifted with the ability to hide his true feelings well. He has been spending a lot of time by himself in the garden and at the menagerie, standing by the birds and the centaurs._

_I wondered who this maiden was – and was quite sure it was the same maiden he had mentioned to me before. She who was so adept at languages, the one whom he had caught the centaur for. How could she not love him? Why would she avoid his affections? So many maidens all over Kyrria have sent him their handkerchiefs spritzed with their perfume that one of servants, Helena, had made her wedding gown out of it._

_Mother was reassuring. "Char, you have devoted so much of your time and energy to being Kyrria's prince. It has made me an unfathomably proud Mother and Queen, but I must confess it has lent to some worrying. I've wondered sometimes if you've spent too much of your time committing to your Princely duties than pursuing your own happiness. I believe the time has come for you to do otherwise."_

_I didn't hear my brother say anything in return._

"_You are a good man, my son. You deserve your answers. You deserve your happiness," Mother said._

_I don't know if they said anything more, because then one of the servants came in to tell me it was time for my visit with one of my ladies from the court. When I saw Char and Mother later at supper, they didn't say a word about it, but there did seem to be a different air to my brother. One of finality and decision._

Though I was grateful for her entry and found myself reading it numerous times with the knot in my chest pulling even tighter, I paid more heed to the note written by one of Char's knights to his sister. He wrote that they would be leaving in a fortnight. He didn't say where, but if I had to guess, their first stop would be Ayortha.

I let out a sigh. As long as I was gone by then, Char would be safe from me.

When I flipped the page, I found myself smiling at a portrait of James and his bandits, sleeping at what looked to be the back of somebody's barn. They were spread out, lying on bales of hay, with Sam's mouth open as he snored. I was glad they were safe. I gave one last glimpse of James sleeping with his knife peeking out from his boot before I closed the fairy book and blew out the candle.

ooo

After a full day of chores and laughter with Areida's family, I found myself restless as I lay in bed, watching the moon from the window. I was mentally counting down the days until I would have to leave Ayortha and continue my journey, and though I savored each moment I spent with them, I did so with quiet despair. I even considered coming back when Char had moved on, but it was too suspicious, and I knew that Char would stop by and ask Areida's family about me. My cover would be blown and I shuddered to think of what they would think of me, knowing I'd kept such a large secret from them.

No, if I left – I could never come back. At least, not so soon. Not as soon as I would like.

Realizing I wouldn't be dozing off to sleep anytime soon, I got out of bed and snuck out of the inn. The streets were silent and empty and I made my way to the river Areida had taken me for the Enoye, grateful for the fresh albeit warm air. I stood at the riverbank, listening to the soft orchestra of the leaves swaying and the sound of the water. After looking around, I took off my cloak and I began to untie my threadbare nightgown. The fabric dropped to the ground with only a whisper, and I waded into the river, closing my eyes at the feel of the cool water against my skin.

I swam in the river, feeling a temporary sense of freedom I scarcely ever felt before. Though I kept an ear out for any trouble, I let myself forget for a few minutes, floating in the river, watching my skin glow under the light of the giant, luminous moon.

"I used to think it was so sad, because you were alone," I whispered up to her. "But then I realized that you weren't. You've got the stars all around you, every night. What I'd give, to feel, sometimes, that I wasn't so alone."

I started to sing a song from my memory. It was an Ayorthaian song, and I closed my eyes and remembered the first time I had heard it. Char had sung part of it in my ear while we danced when I had pretended to be Lela. I remembered it with both fondness and heartbreak.

_"Oak, granite,  
lilies by the road,  
remember me?  
I remember you.  
Cloudy brushing  
clover hills,  
remember me?  
Sister, child,  
grown tall,  
remember me?  
I remember you."_

I could not go on to the rest of the song. Tears had silently started running down my cheeks and I dove back into the water, washing them away.

After I had composed myself, I began swimming back towards the bank. That was when I heard rustling and my eyes swiveled at the thick brush and forestry that surrounded the bank. At first I thought it was just an animal, but I heard even more movement, and then faint whispering.

I froze, searching the darkness, my heart seizing up in my chest. I looked at the pile of my clothes on the dirt, calculating how fast I could swim to get to it.

"Who's there?" I called out.

Silence. Then, after a minute, there was more rustling. The bushes moved. My eyes focused in on one particular spot. Then, finally, a figure emerged, walking forward, sweeping the hanging tree leaves from obscuring his face. A silvery glint flashed from the top of his boot, catching the light of the moon.

He bowed, smirking. " 'Tis a pleasure we meet again, Ella of Frell."


End file.
